


Smother The Flames

by OkyDokyPoky



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Bittersweet, But They Are Still Idiots, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek is a Good Alpha, Derek is a Softie, Dryad!Stiles, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Eternal Sterek, Evil Hunters, Falling In Love, Gay, Gay Male Character, How Do I Tag, Hunters & Hunting, Hunters Vs. Pack, I hope, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Nymphs & Dryads, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Alternating, POV Derek, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles, POV Third Person, Pack, Pack Dynamics, Post Hale Fire, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Stiles' Moles, Stilinski Family Feels, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, The Hale Fire, The Pack is Awesome, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Hunters, Wolf Derek, Wolf Pack, Wolf!Derek, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7797823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkyDokyPoky/pseuds/OkyDokyPoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek needs help, because he has yet again attracted the attention of people that want to kill him, he goes to the one place he was always told he could go to for help. What he finds there is not only help, but also something he never expected.</p><p>Stiles is a Dryad, Derek is a wolf.<br/>Somehow that works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. North

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work was taken from/inspired by the song 'Smother' by Daughter.
> 
> This chapter was inspired by the song 'North' by Sleeping At Last.
> 
>  _Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind._  
>  _Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide._  
>  _Settle our bones like wood over time, over time._  
>  _Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine._  
>  North - Sleeping At Last
> 
>    
> Okay, let's get this show on the road!

 

* * *

  

_“Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.”_

\- William Shakespeare

 

* * *

 

Stiles knew being awakened wasn't a good sign, but it did feel nice. It felt nice to feel to sun on his skin, to hear the birds and the trees. To finally move again. Being asleeping just wasn't the same thing. Sure, he could understand what was being said, and he knew what was going on at almost all times, his connection to the forest and all of its inhabitants made sure of that. But it always felt like there was a big wall between him and the rest of the world. Like dimmed voices coming from behind a door he just couldn't seem to open by himself. 

He felt his magic stir and focussed on it. Although he was awake, he had not yet turned into his dryad form. He liked the peace and quiet this form brought him. The only thing Stiles didn't like about this form, is that it made him feel ancient. This 'tree' form probably looked ancient, too.

His magic stirred, again. He mentally signed, it _was_  his job as the keeper of the forest to listen to it, but he'd prefer to just stay here in this quiet space for a little while longer and enjoy his awakening. His magic was directly connected to the Mother Queen (or 'Mother Nature' as the mortals liked to call her), and she appointed him to his current position. That meant the impatient, ancient magic wouldn't wait much longer. Because if it had awakened him, something was going to go down.

And that wasn't a good thing.

He gave up on his internal monologue and focussed on where the magical energy was coming from, because it was now close to harassing him. It was as impatient as he was sometimes, so he understood. It tugged and tugged, and tried to convey something to him; someone needed him to wake up, badly.

It was Qaz, his trusty right hand. Qaz was a Satyr, he was noble, kind, and Stiles had to admit that the other creature was also pleasant to the eyes. Qaz seemed to want his attention, though. He was being very insistent, something he would not often be. Stiles twisted and turned, his roots and body creaking and moving with him, untill he stood upright, roots holding him up like feet, his hands shaped like twigs, and his hair sprouting out of his head, upwards, like branches of a tree. He stretched out his arms a little and then slowly opened his eyes. He towered over the others in the clearing, and had to remind himself that he was not in his mortal form right now, so of course he would be taller. What he did not expect to see was that his Satyr had brought outsiders into his clearing. He straightened his back, and so did the outsiders. Their aura screaming _wolf_ , and surprisingly _Hale_ , too. Stiles could feel it, it was all around them. The air was almost consumed by it.

"Your Majesty, they are here for an audience with you" Qaz said softly with a small smile, probably excited to see him again. He kneeled with his head bowed low when Stiles looked at him, and Stiles found the sight to be silly. He was not like his mother or the Mother Queen. His equals -his friends- should not have to bow or kneel for him. He raised his hand with the palm facing upward in a silent request for the Satyr to stand up again. He did so, and moved to Stiles' side so that Stiles could inspect the outsiders.

His eyes landed on the figure in the front, he was tall, well-built, and had a handsome face. His eyes seemed determined and the way he held himself told Stiles that he was looking at the Alpha of the little band- no,  _pack,_ of wolves, Stiles had to remind himself. He let his eyes drift over to the blonde that was to the Alpha's right. Probably his second, then. She was slightly smaller than her Alpha, but still just as good-looking. Stiles noticed her hair seemed to shine like gold in th-

"We've come for a favour." The Alpha didn't ask, disrupting Stiles' thoughts.

 _'Rude'_ Stiles thought, but before he could say anything, Qaz was already defensively standing in front of him. "You will regard His Majesty properly or I will personally see to it that you are removed from this forest." the Satyr spitted. Stiles suppressed his smile at the way Qaz stood protectively in front if him, like Stiles needed to be protected. Like he couldn't protect himself. 

"It is all right, my dear Qaz" Stiles spoke, some of his smile coming through, "these wolves are not like us, they are savages even by mortal standards."

He turned back to the wolves, and now regarded them with a solemn look. All traces of a smile leaving his face, and his voice. "No." Stiles answered the non-question. It would be answer enough. These wolves would not understand his reasoning either way.

They all got angry glares and even looks of suprise on their faces, and it would have been comical if it had been any other situation. But right now Stiles was already done with them, he had better things to do. Like figuring out what it was that had made the forest wake him from his deep sleep. So before they could yell all sorts of profanities and objections at him, Stiles raised his hand and that seemed to reign them in. They shut their opened mouths with angry but determined looks. The Alpha seemed not to care, however. He stepped forward, which in turn made Qaz step forward in warning, too. The wolf regarded the Satyr with a look for just a split second, but then looked back towards Stiles. He still had an unwavering, angry scowl plastered on his face.

 _"No!?"_  The wolf said through gritted teeth. "You can't just say _'no'_ and be done with it. If you don't help us, serious harm will come to you, too. There are hunters out there, aiming to level this place with the ground. They want to kill you and everything that moves here, too. I don't know what they're looking for, but it must be important if they're willing to do all that."

 Stiles lowered his head and felt anger flood his system. This man- no, this _wolf_   was unbelievable. How _dare_ he question him. How _dare_ he speak out of term. Stiles did not feel like royalty at all but these wolves should at least show some respect if they wanted _anything_ from him. It was the most important thing in the forest; manners, respect and knowing your place. It was how things worked.

"How _dare_ you threaten me, dog! The only reason you are still alive and allowed in this place right now, is because you are the son of Talia Hale, granddaughter to Olivia Hale." Stiles spit, he knew the wolf wouldn't understand but he didn't care. It was the simple truth and it would do.

The wolf seemed surprised at the fact that Stiles knew his mother and great grandmother, or maybe at the fact that Stiles knew who _he_ was. He frowned and seemed to be at loss for words. Stiles noticed his anger draining from him and the wolf now had a thoughtful look on his face. "How do you know my mother and great grandmother?" He asked tersely, and Stiles couldn't find it in him to ignore the question. His anger had drained from him at the wolf's look. It had been weak to use the wolf's family as a means to quiet the man.

Stiles turned around and sat down on his throne, in the middle of the clearing. It was the tree he had just turned into his dryad form with. Stiles knew that the mortals liked to call it the 'Nemeton', even though that had no meaning to his kind. The tree simply _was._  Nothing more, nothing less. It was the very heart of the forest and one of the only places Stiles felt truly safe, though. So Stiles liked to think of it as his resting place in the forest he called his home. 

"I know a great many things. My children whisper to me in the wind, they tell me everything." He paused for a brief moment before continuing. "I am truly sorry for what happened to your family, but know that the Pact still stands so long as there's a Hale alive. So even though it prevents me from harming you, it doesn't obligate me to help you, either. You may be the son of Talia, granddaughter of Olivia, but I do not trust your kind like my mother did. This is my final judgement, you will leave. Now. This forest is no place for you." Stiles was ready to send the wolves on their way. He told the wolf what he had to hear and so he was done, he no longer felt guilt over his words. He was about to turn away when he heard the Alpha wolf speak up again.

"Then at least tell me your name," he said, "so I know who to call for." Stiles ignored him and continued to turn away, he did not have time for this stupid wolf. Why would his name matter anyway? The wolf would not ever return there.

"Please!" The man now begged him. "Please! Only your name, that's all I ask."

Stiles halted. Technically the wolf was connected to the forest, and Stiles didn't have to power to turn the man away again. He was also simply not allowed to do it -he told himself as a weak excuse-. It was his duty to take care of any and all the creatures that were connected to these woods. He gave a deep sign, and turned back to the wolf who was watching him with big, begging eyes. The man looked silly doing it, but he had to have his reasons. Stiles didn't take him for the kind of man to resort to pleading easily. He also felt a sting of... something... in his gut. Not too long ago, about 150 years, Stiles himself had begged like this. It had been to his own mother, for her to answer him. He shook his head to rid himself of the memory and turned back around completely to face the manwolf.

"I will grant you this," Stiles spoke, his chin held high, "but under the condition that you will not return here. The forest is, like I said, no place for you or your kind."

The wolf nodded his head once, so he took that as a sign of his understanding and agreement. Stiles took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, coming up to his full height he was almost seven feet tall. His roots now stood under him like a big, beautiful gown, and his arms hung calmly, though ready, by his sides.

"My name is Suamue, 7th of my line, son of Cloaldia and choosen Keeper by the Mother Queen herself. I protect these sacred lands on which you stand, so be warned."

"That's a very odd name, not one I ever heard, at least." The wolf at the back said. He had stayed quiet and out of sight the whole time, but chose this moment to step forward a little. He had blond curly hair and a slender frame. His eyes curious as he looked at Stiles like he had never seen anything like him before -which was a very possible thing-.

"Rudeness isn't very becoming on you, young wolf." Stiles spits. He sighs to calm himself and continues because he knows this is a lost fight with the stubborn pack of rude wolves in front of him.

"It is not a name recognized in your language." He explains, "It literally translates to.. to...  _Stiles_." Stiles had to admit: In the mortal tongue that did sound a little strange. But it was his name and it was given to him by his mother. He would not change it just because it wasn't a very popular name in mortal terms, or even a name to begin with.

"Stiles? What the hell is a Stiles?" The female wolf said, now joining the curly-haired wolf in being rude.

Stiles descided to overlook the rudeness of these wolves, _again_ , and he noticed it took his Satyr a lot of restraint not to go off on the outsiders, too. They simply weren't used to being interacted with like this, and Stiles always felt cranky after being awakened, so that might not have helped either.

"It is my name in your tongue, speak it or do not, it would not make a difference." Stiles told them.

"It won't be a problem" The Alpha said "I think I could get used to... _Stiles._ " He faced Stiles with a look he couldn't decipher. "My name's Derek. These are my beta's: Erica, Isaac and Boyd." The beta's nodded in turn at their name being called. Stiles found the sight to be silly. _Mortals_.

"Do not bother with introductions, wolf. Remember what you agreed to? Our 'deal' as mortals like to call it? You are to leave immediately and to never return here." Stiles reminded him, and that seemed to sober the other man up.

The wolf looked away for a second and then looked back at Stiles, straight in the eye, with a slight smirk not even an imp could manage. He simply answered with. "Whatever you say, _Stiles_."

Stiles did not like the tone of this wolf -he told himself- so he sent them off with Qaz, because the stupid wolves wouldn't be able to find their own way home -not at all because he was worried something was going to happen involving the hunters, of course not-. The wolf, _Derek_ , bowed and thanked Stiles, -like he should have done when he first lay eyes on the Dryad, as a courtesy, but oh well- and the other wolves followed his lead. Stiles bowed back slightly because he was not a savage like them, and his mother had raised him well.

He turned away from the leaving outsiders, his roots creaking at the movement, and began planning his tasks because there were a lot of them, so much so that if he tried to sum them all up in his head, it hurt.

He knew that although he tried to forget, the Alpha wolf and his pack would stay on his mind for the following few days.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles smiled as he looked around the clearing. All his children had come to see him. All of the animals and even a few supernatural creatures had come there together and they were all chatting happily to each other. Many believed Stiles to be weird for seeing the animals and some of the supernatural creatures here as his children. He himself found it not to be weird at all. Sure, he was but a couple of hundred years old, but the creatures here were in his care. He saw the much younger animals as his children, and refered to them as such. He didn't refer to any trees or older creatures as his children, so Stiles didn't understand what this supposed 'weirdness' was. Qaz was of the same age as him, and he was his friend. And calling him his child? Now _that_ would be weird.

The Satyr was seated on his right -his literal right hand man- and he was, too, smiling at all of the excited creatures. Stiles had even tried to encourage him to talk to some of the other Satyr that were gathered in the clearing, but his trusty companion had declined. He had told Stiles that it was his duty to protect His Majesty, not to make idle conversations with the guests. Stiles had just let it go with a small smile because he knew how stubborn this particular Satyr could be. It was also part of his charm so _oh well_.

The festivities were interrupted, however, when one of his children -a deer- came rushing into the clearing. She had a panicked look on her face and Stiles could tell that the deer was scared out of her mind. As if she had just escaped death by the skin of her teeth.

Stiles sat up straighter on his throne when the deer came rushing towards him. He knew something aweful had happened, he could feel it through the bond of the forest. The other creatures and animals in the clearing made way for the spooked deer and Stiles noticed that she was not alone. On her head lay an unmoving bird. It was a small yellow warbler. When the deer came to a stop in front of Stiles, she bowed low so that Stiles could examine the little creature lying on her. 

Stiles gasped and covered his mouth with his hands. His eyes began to water and he slowly reached out for the small bird. He took its unmoving body into his hands and brought it closer to his face. The bird was dead. Its still warm body giving no signs of life whatsoever. Stiles knew he should have felt it. He should have _known_ something was wrong right when it had happened so that he could have helped sooner. He was the one that was connected to the forest, they were literally his lifesource and if something were to happen to it he was supposed to know. If the forest would die, he would die with it. Now that he saw the unmoving bird, he could feel the pull it had on him. Even something as small as this little bird tore away at him.

It felt like, like losing a limb. Like a small part of himself was removed. 

He mentally kicked himself. After being awakened he always felt more disconnected from the forest for a while, but it was no excuse. Now one of his children lay dead in his hands.

He knew what to do, though. He knew it wasn't safe and it was definitely frowned upon by the Mother Queen. Some even saw it as dark magic. But this was his child, and he would make sure it would live on as long as it could. Stiles folded his twig-like hands around the little bird and felt his eyes grow hot. He knew that they had become a shining, solid gold colour. After a few moments the palms of his hands began to glow in the very same colour and it didn't take long for Stiles to feel movement between his palms. The gold light faded from his eyes and from between his hands, and he opened them to see the bird opening its eyes and hopping to its feet.

"You are okay, my dear child" Stiles said. he felt like sobbing but he managed to hold himself together. He stroked the soft feathers on its back with the back of his finger while the little creature chirped happily. He smiled at it, because he felt its joy through the bond they shared. The clearing erupted into happy cheers and laughter, they too must have felt the bird come back to life again. 

Stiles raised his hand, so that the bird could lift off and fly a circle around the clearing. It landed on top of one of the antlers of a deer, and Stiles realised it was the same deer that had brought the creature to him. He bowed his head to her as a thank you, and the deer bowed her head, too, in a similar fashion as to say 'no problem'.

It wasn't much later when Stiles decided to end the festivities. He needed time to think because this was not good. His children didn't just suddenly die, not like this at least. Something was happening and now that he had noticed it, he knew it had been there, looming on the edge of the forest for a while. It was a darkness he could not place, but he knew it meant ill.

Most of the creatures had left the clearing, but the ones that wanted to stay for the meeting, remained.

Stiles raised his hands to silence them and stood up. He took a deep, steadying breath and began: "Dear children... my family, my friends. What happened today was not a coincidence. There is a darkness coming for this forest and I do not know what it is, exactly. I was told that there are hunters here, that they are looking for something..." He drifted off there because they all knew what the hunters were looking for. Gasps could be heard throughout the hearing. Mutters of 'Hunters' and 'the Hidden Grove' now filled the air and the creatures moved restlessly, as if they could be attacked any second now. Like they weren't _safe_ anymore. 

"You and I know that the only way to defeat this darkness, is to take _action_. If something as small and innocent as the bird that was brought before me was killed, then what would become of us if we were to remain neutral? We need to step out of the shadows and into the light, because for us to bask in it we will need to take it!" Stiles said with his fist clenched in front of him like he had just given the air an uppercut, and he smiled slightly because it seemed to have a calming effect on all that were gathered. He noticed that a few of the gathered now had firm gazes on their faces. _Ready_ , Stiles noticed. They were _ready_.

The creatures muttered, clapped and some even cheered at his words. Qaz, however, did not like this plan one bit. Stiles could tell that he wanted to speak up. He looked to his right and lifted his eyebrows, silently telling the Satyr that he could, too, share his thoughts with the crowd and Stiles himself. He signalled to the Satyr and Qaz stood up from his chair besides him.

When Qaz stood up it drew the attention of the creatures in the clearing. Once the clearing was completely quiet, Qaz began to speak.

"Please, I beg you all to listen to me and to consider the other possibilities!" He said, concern written all over his face. He continued softer; "In order for us to win this fight, we must plan and consider every possibility, every outcome. We must wait, because action is what will destroy us. Consider what will be lost if we do not win this fight."

Stiles slammed his fist down onto his throne. The entire clearing became eerily quiet in a blink of an eye. Not even the trees sang in the wind, the birds stopped singing and the animals stopped moving. Everything was still. Because when the Keeper was like this, they knew it was serious. They knew his words now would be important.

"I shall not stand idly by while my children suffer and die!" he bellowed. His voice echoing through the forest. He knew that he could be heard all throughout the woods, and that was exactly what he had intented. His children needed to hear this from him. He stood up with a straight back -like he was taught to- and clenched his hands into fists by his sides. "We are going to take action against this darkness, these so-called hunters. Even if I have to cut off all of my roots for it, even if it is the last thing I will ever do. We will protect what is ours!"

The clearing errupted into loud cheers. The creatures all smiling and ready for action. Stiles lifted his chin proudly and smiled. He turned his head to look at his advisor, and noticed that he did not share the same feeling. Qaz's face was a mix of worry, contemplation, and silent acceptance.

Stiles put his hand on the Satyr's shoulder, and when he looked up, Stiles smiled at him reassuringly. The Satyr smiled back, but Stiles could see it was forced. 

He sighed, let his hand trail the Satyr's arm and then fall down. He looked back towards the clearing. Even if Qaz didn't fully agree with him now, it was a fact that they needed to take action. Stiles had done what was necessary and Qaz had to realise that, eventually. He normally liked to plan and wait, too, as was their way. But now they had targeted him personally by attacking his children, and he wouldn't stand for it.

Qaz had to accept it, because they would need every single one of them in order to protect the forest, and the Hidden Crove. 

 

And somewhere at the edge of the forest, the small pack of wolves realised the same thing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this! It is still very much a work in progress. That means that any mistakes are my own, I'll try to get them all out but if you do notice one (or two, or three, or whatever) then please let me know!
> 
> Also please let me know what you think about this chapter, and what you think is going to happen in the next chapters!
> 
>    
> Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Captain speaking. We have successfully lifted off, and I recommend to keep your seatbelts fastened for the duration of the flight.  
> -Okydoky


	2. My Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the song 'My Own' by Whitaker. This is one of my favorite songs and I recommend playing it before reading/while reading/after reading this chapter.
> 
>  _Tell me this_  
>  _Does any of this love exist_  
>  _Or is it just a fire_  
>  _Keeping out the cold_  
>  _Fear of the unknown_  
>  _Turning us to coal_  
>  My Own - Whitaker
> 
> (Also: The lyrics above may or may not hint at something in the chapter, guess you'll have to find out!)

 

* * *

  

 _“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player_  
_That struts and frets his hour upon the stage_  
_And then is heard no more: it is a tale_  
_Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,_  
_Signifying nothing.”_

\- William Shakespeare

 

* * *

 

He had felt the duo's presence from the moment they had set foot in the woods. They moved through the forest without a care, stomping around on the sacred land.

He closed his eyes. His hands were on the arms of his throne. He could feel it buzzing beneath him, moving ever so slightly. It wouldn't be visible to the eye, Stiles knew, and most wouldn't even be able to feel the movement. He, however, did feel it. It was his deep connection to the tree and the wood that made it so. He traced the tips of his left hand over the roots that had twisted and turned together to form the armrest, and poked deeper into the connection, a frown forming on his face as he focussed. The roots that made up his throne moved a little more at the Dryad's attention. It was like it was happy to be there with him. No, Stiles realised, it was _proud_ to be there with him. Supporting him, as his throne. He gave a small snort at the absurd piece of wood and it gave a little twitch back through their connection. As if to say: _'Go ahead, laugh at me'_. This was the most of what Stiles could understand through the connection. Trees weren't very communicative these days. They hadn't been all that talkative before,but now they were all just... silent. Quiet. Like death had fallen upon them. They liked to hide away now. So to even be allowed this, this small interaction between him and the older forest spirit in the tree and roots that made up his throne, was extraordinary.

He felt the duo closer now. It was like an annoying fly that kept buzzing around his head, but somehow he wasn't able (or allowed) to swat it. Or like a deja vu. A weird kind of deja vu. The two individuals were very close, and would soon breach the edge of the clearing. _The_ clearing. Where one of them shouldn't even be remotely close to.

It was but a few moments later when Stiles heard a soft-spoken "Your Majesty... ?". It was Qaz, Stiles knew. He had felt the Satyr before he had stepped into the sacred clearing and he knew that his friend was not alone.

_Once again. Sigh._

Stiles opened his eyes and before he had even fully opened them he stood up from his throne and straightened his back. He was not surprised at the sight before him. So, so very angry, and very disappointed, too. But mostly just unsurprised.

It was the wolf Stiles had sent away a few days prior. He had his hair cut, Stiles noticed. What a weird thing to notice, he realised. It was weird how fast mortal hair grew, because his hair didn't grow that quick at all. It literally took him decades to grow his hair out. Not that he wanted long locks of hair, those would only get in the way, but he was just saying. Mentally. To himself.

He shook his head slightly, and refocussed on the matter at hand. Because right now? Stiles wasn't amused. He turned his disapproving gaze towards Qaz, wanting to deal with him first, and spoke to him curtly.

"How _dare_ you take an outsider into the forest with you, when I _specifically_ told that outsider was not to return. And to bring him, a _wolf_ , here of all places makes it even worse! Into the heart of the forest, this sacred place! What would happen were someone to follow you? The Crove is but a stone's throw away from here! There are hunters roaming through the forest, killing all that comes close to them. What if one of them would have found you? Or a whole group of them? They could have killed you." He turned his gaze towards the wolf -Derek, he remembered its name was- "Both of you."

He felt like screaming to them. His emotions got the better of him sometimes. He never used to fly of the handle like that. He used to be considerate, like his mother had taught him to be. Like she herself had been. It wasn't very Dryad-like to behave this way. Or even adult-like to behave this way. Lately though, with all of the events that were going on, his emotions were all over the place.

He knew he shouldn't have spoken to the pair like that when he noticed the look on the Satyr's face. It was a carefully put together mask covering the regret and hurt. Stiles wanted to kick himself for going off on his friend like this. Even the wolf didn't deserve to be yelled at like that, even if he had broken their deal. Stiles knew better.

He bekkoned Qaz closer, and as the Satyr closed in on Stiles with his head held down, Stiles opened his arms and twisted them around the Satyr's head, like a mother would embrace her child. Stiles muttered an apology into Qaz' hair and kissed his forehead tenderly. He released the Satyr and the man looked up at Stiles and gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. Good, at least he understood, Stiles thought. It would take more than a apologetic hug, but Qaz would always stay loyal. Untill Stiles either died or asked him not to be.

Qaz moved around Stiles and stood at his right -like always- and crossed his arms in front of him. His gaze stoic.

"I caught this wolf sneaking around at the edge of the forest, trying to find his way here, probably." He told Stiles, all the while looking at Derek like he was the center of all things bad in the universe.

Stiles now focussed his attention on the outsider. He raised his hand and pointed a twiggy finger at him. The wolves' eyes widened slightly in -probably- fear. Stiles wanted to smile at the silly wolf, he wouldn't harm him for this. 

Well, not physically, at least. But the wolf didn't know that.

"You  _broke_ our deal. This is a serious offence. You are lucky, wolf, because I cannot harm you for it. The Mother Queen would not allow it." Stiles said with an angry tone to his voice, hoping to make his anger and disappointment shine through his words.

Derek bowed his head, the Dryad's words reaching him. "I'm not just going to give up because you tell me to. My pack and my home are in danger. _You_ are in danger. I want you to realise that, all of it, and if the only way to make you realise it is to break our 'deal', then so be it."

And the wolf wasn't giving up. Stiles noticed it when he had started talking. Maybe it was his voice, or his stance, or just the way his words twisted together into a small speech. Something told Stiles this wolf wasn't used to being told 'no', and that he wasn't going to give up with anything other than a 'yes'.

"I see there is no reasoning with you, then." Stiles says, and he sighed audibly. This stupid, stubborn wolf should be punished for his offence. But technically they hadn't made an _official_  pact. At the time he was still waking up and it would have taken too much energy from him in that state, with his magic still coming back to him and all.

The wolf probably thought that it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. Silly creature, just like all the other wolves _ever_ ; No strict laws, no honour, and no manners. _'Beasts.'_   His mother had once told him,  _'Vile beasts'_.

Qaz uncrossed his arms and took a few steps forwards and his face came into Stiles' view. He was now slightly in front of Stiles, with his back mostly, but not all the way, turned to the intruder -always ready to protect Stiles no matter what-. "You aren't  _seriously_ considering letting this offence go, are you, Your Majesty?" He asked Stiles increndously. As if Stiles had decided to wear purple polkadotted pants while dancing the firecracker in front of the Mother Queen.

"Let it go, Qaz" Stiles signed again. The Satyr's face turned darker in anger, his carefully neutral mask falling off, but he pressed his lips together and remained silent at Stiles' request. It was no use trying to argue, anyway. Stiles knew the wolf wasn't going to listen. And if Stiles refused to talk to the wolf, he would just keep trying. And trying. And _trying_.

 _'Damned wolves'_ he thought, _'getting on my nerves'_.

"I see I'm no longer needed, here." Qaz almost spit. He gave a slight bow towards Stiles, accompanied with a muttered "Your Majesty", turned on his heels and stomped out of the clearing. The wolf eyed him untill he could no longer see the figure of the Satyr, and then his eyes landed back on Stiles. He raised his eyebrows. He was apparently waiting for him to decide what to do now.

Stiles sighed, yet again, and turned towards his right. He started moving into the direction of the treeline, deciding that leaving the sacred clearing with the wolf would be best. The wolf shouldn't even be there in the first place, so it seemed like a good idea. He closed his eyes and -while walking- started to feel the roots under him shrink, the twigs on his head receded and his hands grew smaller. His skin felt somewhat colder and after a few more steps, he felt soft grass under his -seemingly mortal- feet.

"Walk with me!" He called over his shoulder, and even with these mortal ears he could hear the wolf stumble to quickly catch up to him.

This form, his 'mortal' form, was his weakest and most vurnerable form. He could still cast magic, if need be, but his connection to the forest was dimmed. He could feel it stirring in his unconciousness, trying to reach for him. To coax him back into his other form. It was like holding someone with the tip of your pinky at armslength. You knew they were there, and you could still kind of feel them, but it wasn't the same as embracing each other.

He didn't turn into this form often, it was mostly just too dangerous. Him being awake usually meant trouble, so that would only make it more reckless. After all, there was nothing wrong with his other forms, so why bother?

He heard the wolf catch up to him and felt his eyes on him. He turned his head and when he caught the wolf staring at him, he felt warmth fill his cheeks. This form was so embarrasing, the wolf must find it to be a silly sight. He knew how he looked like this, he had caught his reflection in the water a few times over the span of his life. His appearance wasn't the most flattering in this mortal form, and his hair was a silly mess of reddish brown. He looked a lot younger now, too. Well he wasn't sure, actually. Maybe this was his Dryad age in mortal years? He never was very good at guessing their lifespan, or trying to compare the both.

It didn't take long for Stiles to feel content with their distance from the clearing. The wolf couldn't possibly find it now. But just to be sure, he had another little idea.

He turned around towards the wolf, and gave him a small smile. "Well? I thought wolves were supposed to be fast?" He gave the wolf a nod, and darted off towards the lake, not once looking back.

Never let it be said that Dryads couldn't be playful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Derek was struck with the beauty of this 'Stiles'. There were no flaws on him. At all. His skin was dotted with moles and looked so soft that Derek wouldn't even have to touch it to tell it was. His eyes were a liquid kind of gold colour that seemed to match the sun. He had reddish brown hair that looked just as soft as his skin. A few twigs were twisted into his hair and when Derek squinted his eyes and looked more closely, he could tell they were arranged around his head like a, a tiara? A crown? Something resembling that, at least. It reminded Derek of the statues of old Gods, who wore similar crowns made out of leaves. Maybe that wasn't a far throw from what Stiles actually was; a God.

His eyes trailed down over the taut skin of the other man's abdomen and he frowned in surprise when he saw that no, the other man was not completely naked. Not like when wolves changed out of their skin, then. It looked like he was wearing some kind of underwear made out of twigs. It seemed to be glued to his skin. Hell, that probably was the case, done with some weird kind of forest magic or something, Derek thought. It wouldn't be the first freaky thing he had seen.

He was breathtaking, and it was differcult for Derek to look away from him. It was like he wasn't from this planet -and maybe he wasn't, who even knew with these 'Keepers'? He looked to be the age of a mortal teenager, maybe older. The air around him and the way he held himself, however, seemed to suggest otherwise. Like he had a couple of hundred years of practice to perfect his form and stance. That was probably also the case.

He looked like a young God walking on earth, and Derek just couldn't help but stared.

Stiles turned around suddenly, his underwear made of twigs and leaves moving with him, still stuck on his skin. "Well? Aren't you wolves supposed to be fast?"

He gave Derek a sunny smile and darted off into the trees, leaving Derek in his dust. It didn't take Derek long to catch his bearings and chase after the other man.

"So... what... are you?" Derek asked, out of breath. He had finally caught up with Stiles, who seemed to be just as fast as a wolf. He had slowed down into a walk again, so that they could both catch their breaths.

"I am Suamue... or well, Stiles." He merely answered, as he held his own two hands behind his back.

Derek heaved a small sigh and tried again. "I know that your _name_ is Stiles, but what kind of creature are you? You're not mortal, that's for sure." And he put his hands into his pockets because he didn't know what to do with them.

Stiles looked at him, and for a moment Derek thought he saw something vurnerable in the man's eyes, but it was gone too fast for him to get a good look. "Well, I am a Dryad... sort of. The Dryads of ash trees are called the Meliai. And you have the Hamadryad, who are long-lived -like me- but are tied to their homes. Which, granted, I am sort of too. But not completely.

"Then you have those who would call me a Nymph, because of my other forms and because of the Satyrs that pledge themselves to my kind. I know some Nymphs associated with apple trees, called the Epimeliad, and some associated with walnut-trees, called the Caryatids. I'm associated with the Nemeton, so I'm neither."

Stiles took a deep breath. How he could keep talking and breathing at the same time, Derek would never know. His words made Derek think, though.

"So what does that mean?" Derek asked, and he knew he must have looked so lost. "You're a sort of Dryad... Nymph... tree... thing?" He stumbled over the words he tried to put puzzle of information together.

"Sort of" Stiles answered mysteriously, and he gave Derek that same sunny smile again. He was probably internally laughing at Derek, like a little shit. After a few moments he sobered up, and his face turned serious again. It could almost be called comical, the sudden change from smiling to utmost seriousness.

"I'm mostly just a Dryad. All here see me more as a... what is the correct word in your language.. a.. a guardian." Stiles said, as he looked up towards the sky. The rays of sunlight catching his eyes and reflecting its matching amber golden colour. "A protector of sorts." He continued, "I am a protector for all that lives here. But mostly just a Keeper. When the forest needs me, it calls to me and I awaken for it." He concluded.

"So that means that right now something is amiss?" Derek asked, but he already knew the answer to that question. It was why he had come into the forest in the first place.

Stiles signed but answered. "Well not necessarily right in this moment, but I'm sorry to say that something will happen in the near future. Something bad. The forest is very old and very wise, and it doesn't make mistakes often. It is not dumb nor oblivious to what goes on in the mortal world. So, yeah, you could say that me being awake is not a very good sign." It seemed like Stiles really liked being awake, but that this feeling of impending doom always followed his awakening.

Like waking up every morning and knowing something bad was going to happen that day. It sounded horrible.

Derek looked back to Stiles from his shoes that he had been studying with intent for a while. He saw Stiles' neutral face but just knew that the Dryad was hiding his hurt. "That's not what I meant, though." Derek told him, as he tried for a smile. Suprisingly, it seemed to work as it gave Stiles a slight tint to his cheeks. Maybe in anger, but maybe because of something else Derek didn't want to think about.

"I know." Stiles muttered. He smiled back at him and followed Stiles as he continued further into the forest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

'You hate him, he has no manners, he broke your deal, you hate him' Stiles had to remind himself over and over again. He didn't like the fact that for some reason he felt so at ease with this wolf. 

"I know" He told the wolf, because that seemed to be the only thing that would come out of his mouth. Derek just smiled back at Stiles, the complete fool.

They walked onwards for a few more minutes, filled with silence. First further towards the lake, but gradually their path curved untill there was no clear destination. Not any Stiles could think of, at least. The trees were singing in the wind. Stiles noticed Derek looked up from time to time, with his eyebrows knitted. As if he, too, could hear their true singing.

"I remember a chapter in the Hale bestiary about the living trees and how they can sing. So how does that work? " Derek asked a little while later, probably having ended his internal debate if he should ask Stiles about it or not.

Stiles looked at him in surprise. He had thought the bestiary would have been destroyed in the Hale fire. It had once long ago been a gift from a Keeper to the Hales. Not the pages of the book itself, but most of the information in it. 

Derek looked up slowly and at seeing Stiles' surprised face, his shoulders hunched up in defense. "I mean the way you communicate. You do it with your words, sure. But I saw you look up to the trees and their leaves a few times. Like you can understand them. Like they're talking to you... or something." He ended awkwardly.

He knew what Derek was talking about. The wolf just wasn't very good with his words. He also knew that _that_ particular piece of information was not commonly known. If the Hale bestiary was still completely intact, the pack had to protect it at all costs. Pieces of information like that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands.

"Well..." Stiles began cautiously, "if something happens in the forest, I know of it. This is because I can, indeed, communicate with the trees, animals, creatures, et cetera. I do this through the leaves of the trees. I can also do it through my roots, because of my connection with the forest. When I'm sleeping, the trees relay the messages to me, and when I'm awake and in this form, the wind carries the words for me. Sorry if this is differcult to understand, but I don't know how else to explain it to you. It's a very complicated thing, and the mortal tongue doesn't have the words to describe it completely."

Stiles took a deep breath. He always did this; talk too much. Qaz had once told him that it must be because he was sleeping most of the tim. So when he was awake, he wanted to get as much words out of his mouth as possible. Stiles had laughed with him when the Satyr had said this, but hadn't disagreed.

After a few moments of staring at Stiles like he had either grown a second head, or was the epitome of awesomeness in the universe, Derek answered with: "Yeah, I think I understand now." He looked back at his feet, and Stiles noticed he did that a lot. Did Stiles miss something in all his living years? Were mortals usually this interested in their feet? He should ask Qaz later.

"So how does that work with the trees, then?" Derek interrupted his thoughts, "They all seem pretty... idle.. to me." And he sounded so awkward, like he was asking Stiles to go to one of those end-of-the-year events the mortals hosted at their learning places. Qaz had told him all about it. He had at the time been interested in a mortal girl, who he hadn't stopped talking about untill Stiles had threatened to feed him to the trolls.

Stiles thought about his answer for a second, trying to make it sound not crazy in the mortal tongue. "I can understand what the trees are feeling, when I touch them." He took a breath at his own words because, yeah, this wasn't going to sound sane in _any_ language.

"They used to dance. We used to call them 'Ents', you know." It still saddened him, to that very day. He still felt it, too. Their fear. Not as much as it had been, but always an underlying current. "They are all shy now, and hide away in fear of the mortals and the ones that want to cause them harm."

And Stiles blames himself that he never got them to return to their happy state, sometimes the forest seemed so quiet and sad, without them. "If you could feel the... the aura.. of the forest" He told Derek quietly, "then you would be able understand." He pressed his hand against a tree, and he could feel it buzzing underneath his palm.

"But I will never be able to feel this 'aura' of the forest." Derek told him.

Stiles, in turn, shrugged like it couldn't been helped. "Then you will never know or understand the pain it brings me. It feels like... like... I do not even know how to put it into words."

There were a few seconds of silence, and then Derek said, almost too quietly: "It's like losing a limb." And it sounded so broken and small. Stiles could have mistaken it for the rustling of leaves.

He looked at Derek with wide, vurnerable eyes. And he saw that, when the wolf looked up, Derek had not thought that the Dryad was capable of showing vurnerability.

And in that moment Stiles realised that Derek knew that pain, that very same pain he had felt. Stiles knew it had to do with the Hale fire. His own mother had mourned for days. Stiles remembered feeling her pain throughout the forest, as it was reflected on her face and all around her. The forest had been mourning too, and had been just as quiet as it was now.

It was, indeed, like losing a limb.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They walked for a few minutes, or longer. Stiles really should get a grip on time. Hours always felt like minutes, but then minutes could sometimes feel like hours, too. He was contemplating about asking Derek to get him one of those time-things the mortals liked to wear on their arms, when he felt it.

It was a piercing pain. Like something akin to a spear was literally trying to impale him. The pain shot  _r_ _ight_ through his chest. Stiles put his hands on his chest to feel for blood, but nothing was there. Only hard, unwavering, piercing shots of pain.

He must have fallen to his knees, because when he looked up in the next moment, Derek was kneeling in front of him. His dark eyebrows in a deep, worried frown and his hands outstretched. As if he wanted to touch Stiles, make sure he was okay, but didn't know if he was allowed to do it. His eyes were wide open, shocked.

Stiles heard Derek's voice. At first it was dimmed, like Stiles was underwater. But after a few seconds Derek's voice broke through the mental fog and what he heard was: "What's happening? Are you hurt?"

Stiles looked up at him, and his eyes must be almost pleading. He could see it reflected in Derek's own eyes.

"Something's wrong." He said, "Something is very, very wrong." He took a deep breath and bit through the next wave of pain. "It's... it's as something is impaling me."

Derek looked him over, but obviously saw nothing that led him to believe Stiles was actually being impaled by something. "What are you feeling exactly? Try to explain it to me." He tried to make his voice come over as calm and collected, but Stiles knew he wasn't feeling calm at all.

"I felt the same thing when-" He cut himself off. His next words would hurt the wolf, but he had to. Derek deserved to know what was going on. "When the woods around your family's home burned down. With your mother, the Alpha, inside." He said the last part quietly, almost no sound coming from his mouth.

He could hear the deep, quick intake of breath. Derek knew what Stiles was feeling, and he knew something like that or _worse_ must be happening for Stiles to be in this pain.

"But there are no other packs around this area anymore, and I'm the only alpha here. How is this happening?" His voice was raspy, Stiles noticed through his pain, and he heard the wolf clear it.

The shots of pain weren't getting any less, but it became more bearable by the second. He clenched his teeth and said: "It's not a wolf pack or alpha per se, it's the feeling of dea-"

Before the Dryad could finish his sentence, the leaves around them began to screech. Like thousands of little, high-pitched screams. And they must sound like that to sensetive ears, because Derek was covering his ears with his hands with a pained look on his face. He was looking up at the leaves, looking for the source of the screams, and Stiles followed his eyes with wide, worried eyes.

_Oh no._

It was the forest itself. It was literally crying out in fear and pain, calling for Stiles to help it, because it was dying. And not just one living thing, no. It was dying at the dozens, and fast.

"It's the forest!" Stiles yelled at Derek over the screeching, "It's in pain. It... It's dying! We have to do something now!" Derek immediately got up, and helped Stiles up as well. He looked at Stiles with uncertain eyes, and Stiles gave him a single nod. _I'm good_. This seemed to be enough to clear the uncerainty from the wolf.

Together they took of into the direction the screeching leaves led them, dodging branches and tree trunks. And all the while Stiles couldn't shake the pain and the thoughts that something very, very terrible was happening.

 

And that it was just the beginning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have made it through the second chapter! YAY!
> 
> This is still very much a work in progress. That means that I might change up a few things, and that any mistakes are my own. I'll try to tackle them all but if you do notice any mistakes, please let me know.
> 
> As always: Thank you and let me know your thoughts!  
> -Okydoky


	3. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the song 'Collapse' by Vancouver Sleep Clinic. I recommend playing it before reading/while reading/after reading this chapter. (Their album "Winter" is amazing. I recommend listening to it just in general.)
> 
>  _Falling short again_  
>  _I'm falling short again_  
>  _The ranges set so high_  
>  _And I could never climb_  
>  _Falling_  
>  Collapse - Vancouver Sleep Clinic
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 _“There is nothing either good or bad,  
but thinking makes it so_. _”_

\- William Shakespeare

 

* * *

  

He was running, running until it hurt and even then he didn't stop running. He could still hear the leaves screeching, and could still feel the shots of pain through his chests. Stiles tried to push it to the back of his mind, so he could focus on what the hell was going on.

It wasn't long before he detected a faint smell, and when he looked up he saw thick smoke rising from the southern border at the edge of the forest. It could only mean one thing; fire. He came to a stop and -for a moment- was nailed to the ground. He couldn't look away from the smoke that didn't seem to stop. It filled the air, and almost seemed to battle the clouds for dominance. 

He faintly registered Derek stopping somewher to his right, and when he finally seemed to regain some form of awareness, he looked back down and into Derek's eyes. He saw the same panicked look that must be reflected on his face. For a moment he felt like a child again. That panicked child that was scared of thunder and the dark. He longed for his mother who would always protect him, and hold him close, for just a split second. He shook his head and then took off again. Putting all of his willpower into forcing his body to the limits. He ran faster than he had ever done before, even when racing Qaz.

Derek seemed to be right behind him, also pushing his body to the limits to keep up and reach their mutual destination as fast as possible. 

A few of his children -deer, birds, gnomes- ran and flew in the opposite direction. They didn't even seem to notice Stiles or Derek, so panicked they were in their escape. The deer ran and almost trampeled a frightened gnome family. The older gnome held a half open suitcase in one hand, and a smaller gnome by the other. A little girl, Stiles noticed. They both had black swipes on their faces. They must have been driven from their home on the outer edge of the forest, and the fire must have caught them by surprise.

The sight filled Stiles up with sadness, but also with fury and even more willpower to reach the heart of the fire, and kill it as quickly as possible. It had to be stopped at all costs, too many creatures and too much forest had already died because he had been so busy talking to a  _wolf_  of all things.

Suddenly, he heard a sound. It was the yelp of an animal. The sound was broken and cut off, like it was trapped and trying to get out. Stiles hesitated for a moment, with a final look to the orange glow he could just about see through the trees. He then turned to his left and went in the direction of the sound.

It was a fawn, probably no older than a few months. It was trapped underneath a tree that must have fallen over when one of the bigger creatures pushed past it to get away from the fire. A deer was standing next to it, but not its mother. Stiles noticed that it's the same deer that brought him the bird during his awakening, it was probably trying to help the other animal, but wasn't able to. The fawn was still yelping and calling out for its mother, and Stiles quickly got down on his knees next to the creature. He put his hands on the tree trunk while trying to stay as calm as possible. His mother had taught him that animals could sense fear, and that if he wasn't calm, the animals wouldn't be calm either.

He took a deep breath and said: "Don't worry, little one. We'll get you out in no time." The fawn looked up at him with big, round eyes. It stopped its yelping and now seemed to have noticed the presence of the wolf behind Stiles.

"Do you see this wolf, my child? He's a very strong alpha and he'll get you out of here in no time." He said the last part a little louder over his shoulder, indicating to Derek that he needed to help him pick up the log. His mortal form was stronger than it looks, but not  _that_  strong.

Derek crouched next to him and together they lifted the tree trunk off the fawn. It stood up on shaky legs and darted off into the opposite direction of the fire -and probably away from the alpha werewolf, too- and seemed to be further unharmed. A few more animals ran past them, and while Stiles got up he ordered the deer to go after the fawn and make sure it found his mother. The deer nodded and took off into the trees.

Stiles got up, and threw a look over his shoulder to check if Derek was standing up again. With a nod from the other man, they continued towards the flames.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles and Derek arrived at the outer edge of the forest, the pain fully began to register with Stiles. He now saw it with his own two eyes.

The fire was roaring and moving quicker than any fire should move. It was devouring the forest, killing everything in its path. The air was filled with dark smoke, it was almost too thick for them to see through. They were coughing, and through watering eyes they saw a sight which had them both trembling. Burnt corpses lay unmoving on the still burning ground. Stiles couldn't look at this devestation, it was just too much. Pain not only shot through his chest now, but spread all throughout his body. He was shaking with it. He felt like fainting.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't give up now. 

He covered his mouth with his arm, and tried to move forward.

A hand stopped him, though. It was Derek. He was covering his mouth his mouth with his arm too, and with his other hand held Stiles' shoulder. Stiles frowned at him in anger and tried to shake off his hand so that he could go and help, but the wolf's grip was too strong.

"Don't go in there, you won't make it!" Derek told him over the sound of the fire. His eyes were pleading now, like he was reliving a memory, and it was playing right before his eyes.

"I have to go in there! There could still be creatures alive in there, they need my help!" Stiles tried to shake the hand from his shoulder again, but it still wouldn't budge. "Let me go! I command you to let me go, now!" He moved around and tried harder, but to no avail.

"Nothing can stop it now, Stiles! It's gone too out of hand. If you go in there you'll die, and you won't be of any help to anyone then. The forest needs you alive and able more than ever!" Derek tried to tell Stiles, but Stiles was looking at the fire with devestated eyes. Not hearing the words directed at him. He needed to help, but going in there meant certain death for him in this form. This stupid, stupid form he took on because of the stupid mortal.

"The humans have special people trained for stopping fires! Firefighters! They will stop it, trust me!" Derek said, and he pulled Stiles back harder. "We have to leave! There's nothing we can do anymore!"

With a quick twist and turn Stiles finally broke free of the wolf's grip. "Do you really think that this can be stopped by mere mortals?!" He yelled at Derek, his body buzzing with rage. "I will stop it myself, I know I can!"

He spinned back around, facing the fire, and held up his hands next to him. His palms were facing the fire, and his stance must have resembled someone hanging from a cross. He closed his eyes in concentration, and felt them grow warmer, turning into their gold colour under his eyelids. His palms heated up too and he heard a slight intake of breath behind him, accompanied with a few footsteps that seemed to go away from him. Like the wolf was taking a few steps back, not knowing what would happen next.

He focussed on projecting a shield in front of him, and by the surprised "woah" behind him, he was succesful. He opened his eyes, and frowned in concentration as he tried to push the barrier to his left and right, extending it. It did extend, and formed a solid wall of golden magical energy. A border that couldn't be crossed, not even by himself.

The fire moved towards them, so quickly and suddenly, and hit the barrier with full force. The barrier produced a deep sound on impact, like the vibrations of something hard hitting a stone wall, and the fire bounced off it. 

Stiles gave a little smile. He was exhausted, but it worked. The fire couldn't cross his barrier just like he had planned. 

"Stiles, look!" Stiles head shot to the right, and his heart sank in his chest. The fire was unable to move in their direction, sure. But it wasn't contained, it just moved to the left and right, and seemed to be even more aggressive now.

He dropped to his knees, and knew he looked defeated. He felt defeated. He was too exhausted to do anything more, putting as much of his energy into creating the magical barrier as he could. And now he couldn't do a thing.

Stiles didn't realise he was screaming and crying, until he felt his throat ache. He saw and felt the forest dying, the fire now attacking the forest in full force. No normal fire behaved that way. No normal fire leapt up and attacked trees, covering them in flames from top to bottom until they were nothing more than burnt pieces of ash.

He screamed and he cried out in pain, the loss was too much. It was all just _too much_. He could practically see his children die before his eyes, and he felt empty.

Derek was talking to him, telling him they should leave. Telling him that the human 'firefighters' were close and that they needed to leave because they could spot him.

Rage filled him. It replaced the emptiness in him and it almost smothered him. He turned his head towards the wolf, and started yelling at him.

"It's all your fault! It's all your fault or letting these hunters follow you here! Thousands of my children are dying and it's all because of you!"

He turned back around on his knees and covered his face with his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He didn't see the hurt on Derek's face, and didn't notice that his words cut into Derek like knives.

Derek reached his hand out, but before it came into contact with him Stiles slapped it away, stood up and faced Derek. His eyes were a solid golden colour, and they were glowing brightly. There were golden tears leaking from them. He looked strangely beautiful, and extremely dangerous like this.

His next words had Derek clawing at his ears. Stiles' voice was booming through the forest. It not only seemed to come from his mouth, but from thousands of mouths around them. It was like his voice was carried by the wind from every direction. The sound hurt Derek's ears, just like when the leaves had been screeching.

"Leave! Leave now! You did enough! You _murdered_ my children! _Slaughtered_ them! I banned your _filthy_ kind from this forest for a reason, and I let you back in! How could I be so _stupid_ as to let this happen!"

He seemed to be trembling. Derek wanted to reach out, do something. He couldn't move his hands from his ears, though. The sound was so painful he felt like fainting.

"Stiles!" He tried, "Stiles! Please!" But his words were useless. The sound of Stiles' voice drowning them out.

"You are banned! This forest is once again forbidden ground for you and _anyone_ who tries to enter. If you ever set a _foot_ in my forest again, I will _kill you_!"

The wind seemed to draw to Stiles, and with one final intake of breath, he screamed;

 

_"LEAVE!"_

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters to go, we're halfway! Please make sure your safety belt is secured and you keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle until the ride has fully stopped.
> 
> (This is still very much a work in progress. That means that I might change up a few things, and that any mistakes are my own. I'll try to tackle them all but if you do notice any mistakes, please let me know.)
> 
> As always: Thank you for reading!  
> -Okydoky


End file.
